PS H63 1902 Cop 3545 W5 y 1 hentheHeaut ^ IS Young. WiuiAM VnAuaci Vn^itewck Class _JPS :^:5-^iS- Book__.^C:>'^yE_ GoipghtF \^< COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. Frontispiece AND WITH SOLEMN MIEN AND SILENT TAKES HER PLACE UPON MY KNEE When the Heart is Young By William Wallace Whitelock u«.'-o Illustrated by Harper Pennington New York E. P. Dutton & Company 31 West Twenty-third Street 1902 THE LIBRAHV OF CONGRESS, Two COWES Rrbw) lUL. 9 1902 (. CLASS ^ XX«i No. COPY B. Copyright E. P. BUTTON & CO. IQ02 Published, Sept., igo2 TO MY MOTHER, WHO GAVE ME A HAPPY CHILDHOOD CONTENTS A CHILD S READING , THE EYES THAT FOLLOW YOU MY LITTLE SWEETHEART . THE SONG OF THE LODTOPS THE MAN IN THE PH0N0GRAPH-I50X DOING STUNTS . johnny's BILL OF FARE snooty-pooty . ef i was rich a piebald trip Susan's bad language johnny's CONSCIENCE WHOOS my aunt . how to tell the time reversal . little girl with but one dimple johnny's thoughts on CHRISTIAN SCIENCE TRAVELLING ...... THE BOY-EATER ..... SLEEPY TIME ...... 3 5 7 9 II 13 iC 18 20 23 24 26 28 29 32 33 35 37 40 43 VI Contents PANTS ...... " THERE WERE GIANTS IN THOSE DAYS ROUND 'bout CHRIS'mAS TIME THE MAN THAT WAKES ME UP THE TITTYPOOS TWO WISHES .... johnny's LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS THE SONG HE SHOULD HAVE SUNG THE MAN WHO LOVED THE CHILDREN WHEN THE NOSE IS COLD . THE HUNT FOR THE DRAGON MY LITTLE BOY PICKING ON KIDS A CHRISTMAS PRAYER A KNOTTY QUESTION AN EARLY BLOSSOM . THE HURDY-GURDY . THE DEAREST ONE . 45 46 48 50 52 56 58 59 60 62 63 71 72 74 76 77 79 81 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS And with solemn mien and silent Takes her place upon my knee . . . Frontispiece No matter where I get, its eyes Keep lookin' straight at me . . Facing page 4 On, on I flew, and close behind A dragon snapped his jaws . . . P<^S^ 21 It ain't a-seein' Whoos, though, hurts. It 's havin' them see you . . . Facing page 26 You stand before the clock, just so. An' start right at the top .... Page 30 Little girl with but one dimple Lurking in your satin cheek . . Facing page 32 Our football team was formed of those Who averaged seven feet . . . Faci?ig page 46 ' While as for jumping, Henry Spring Jumped right across the street . . Facing page 48 And the sailing-boats he fashioned Were a wonder and delight . . Facing page 60 An' so I had to get a stick, An' sister got a hoe .... Facing page 64 y A CHILD'S READING Sitting, forgot by the world in its haste, She finds what the world is questing, Content with her book from morn till noon. From noon till the sun is westing; She takes no thought of the hours' flight, For hers is the age abundant, When days are long and filled with song. And time is a gift redundant. " The Prince was tall and his face was fair. And his heart was gold straight through "— 'T is thus she reads on the magic page, And she knows it must be true ; So forth they fare to the dragon's lair. That he dare as a hero must ; But she knows no fear, for the Prince is near, And hers is the age of trust. Now, the dragon fierce from his gloomy cave Comes forth with his flaming eyes. A Child's Reading But the Prince's sword doth pierce his heart, And the wicked dragon dies ; Then the Prince leads home the lady fair Who had pined in the tower above — And the reader sighs as she dries her eyes, For hers is the age of love. THE EYES THAT FOLLOW YOU We 've got the awfullest picture That ever you did see ; No matter where I get, its eyes Keep lookin' straight at me, I hide behind the sofa, An' I wait, an' wait — until — Oh, dreadful long — but when I peep They *re watchin' for me still. The other afternoon, real late, I crep' up to the door, As soft as anythin', for they Was carpet on the floor ; An' I peeked into the parlor. Like Sister says she done, But I found those eyes a-lookin". An' I tell you but I run. Now, Tommy Bell when he was here He stood right over there, An' crossed his heart that picture Was lookin' at him square ; 3 The Eyes That Follow You But I was standin' here, an' I Was watchin' of those eyes — An' some day he '11 be sorry If he tells sech w'oppin' Hes. One night when Mother tucked me in She promised not to tell, So I told her 'bout that picture. An' I told on Tommy Bell ; But Mother laughed an' said those eyes Just seemed to move to me ■ — But I mean to get a stick an' poke Those eyes myself an' see. NO MATTER WHERE I GET, ITS EYES KEEP LOOKIN' STRAIGHT AT ME MY LITTLE SWEETHEART She comes when day is over, And the evening sky is bright, In the restful gloaming hour. When 't is neither day nor night ; And with solemn mien and silent Takes her place upon my knee ; Then she says, " Your little sweetheart Has come back again, you see." She is very small, my sweetheart, And her eyes are deep and blue, Like the skies of early summer, When the clouds are faint and few ; And she shakes her golden ringlets — Such a serious little miss — And she says, " Your little sweetheart Has n't had her evening kiss." So I kiss my little sweetheart. And I ask her if she still 5 My Little Sweetheart Will prefer me to all others When she 's further up the hill ; And she smiles and shows her dimples, In an arch, coquettish way, Ere she says, " I '11 be your sweetheart When I 'm toothless, old, and gray." Ah, my dainty little sweetheart. Would that you could still remain Such a pure and lovely flower. Like the violets after rain ; Would that time might hold no changes, Little one, for such as thee. That the gloaming hour might ever Bring my sweetheart to my knee ! THE SONG OF THE LODTOPS Give me your hand, O comrade, I am slipping from off my perch, For the Lodtop here on the other side keeps giving a terrible lurch ; Oh, the curse of our race is this miserable fat, and the running to avoirdupois, Though it seems to have nothing whatever to do with the eating of girls and boys ; I have eaten but thirteen boys this week, with portions of maiden stew. And yet I am getting so terribly fat that i^ I do not know what to d CHORUS Oh, it 's /letg/i for a steak from a jolly plump boy ! And it 's /lo for him made into duff ! Now, I find that the good little boys are the best, For the bad little boys they are tough. 8 The Song of the Lodtops Keep hold of my hand, O comrade, for if I should fall to the ground, I am sure I would burst with a loud report, and the fragments would never be found ; But alas, I have five little Lodtops at home who 're de- pendent on me for food, And if I should burst who would bring them a boy or a sweet little girl to be stewed ? I have grown so fat in my latter days that I only can hide in the grass. And grab at the heels of the girls and the boys as the dear little innocents pass. CHORUS So it 's heigJi for a steak from a succulent lad ! And it 's Jio for a chop from a maid ! I '11 invite you all round to my house to sup When the bluebells are heard in the glade. THE MAN IN THE PHONOGRAPH-BOX My Pa he is the funniest man That ever you did see ; He 's always playing jokes on Ma, And sometimes, too, on me ; He brings me lots of playthings, Like soldiers, kites, and blocks, But the finest thing of all, I think. Is the man in the pho- -^^ nograph-box. He brought him home the other night, And then when tea was done, He made him talk and laugh and sing — I tell you it was fun ! — 9 lo The Man in the Phonograph-Box Till at last he hollered, " Let me out ! They 're hittin' me with rocks! " And I thought I 'd die a-laughin' At the man in the phonograph-box. He said a piece of po'try called " John Anderson, my jo," And then he sung a song about The days of long ago ; And Ma, who was a-settin' there A-mendin' Father's socks. She thought I did n't see her cry At the man in the phonograph-box. I tried to get a look at him, So when Pa made him sing I peeked down thro' his speakin'-toob, But I could n't see a thing — But I think it 's mean to keep him there Shut in by bolts and locks, And I 'm goin' to let him out some day, That man in the phonograph-box. DOING STUNTS My Cousin Joe an' Sister Nell An' Tommy Bell, what comes To play with us an' spend the day An' break my slates an' drums, They all has got a lot o' stunts That no one else can do, An' says I ain't no good at all 'Cause I ain't got one, too. Now, Sister Nell she skins the cat, She does, an' Cousin Joe He 's double-j'inted in his thumbs An' in his right-hand toe ; But Tommy Bell 's the best of all — He whistles thro' his teeth ! The other day he showed me how, Out on the Jones's heath. II 12 Doing Stunts I ain't had time to learn it yet, It 's hard as every thing, But maybe if I practise up I '11 learn it 'fore next spring ; An' Sister Nell she 's promised too, She 'd teach me how some day To skin the cat the way she does The double-action way. You can't learn how to move your ears Unless you 're born that way, Nor how to throw your j'ints out, Or make your back go sway ; But you can learn to cross your eyes. An' do the split, an' turn Yourself all sorter inside out, Like I 'm a-goin' to learn. Cl I r'jl JU JOHNNY'S BILL OF FARE My Pa an' Ma an' me we lives At Hotel Orange Bloom, A place with illeevaters, An' a great big dinin'-room ; Our breakfuses we takes upstairs, At half past eight or nine, But lunch an' dinner 's down below, An' I tell you but it 's fine ! At dinner-time there 's always soup, With clams or oysters first. Johnny's Bill of Fare An' then a printed bill o' fare, Enough to make you burst ; There 's duck an' turkey, beef an' pork. An' veg'tables — oh, my ! — In little dishes round your plate, An' seven kinds of pie ! There 's nuts an' raisins, grapes an' figs, An' cocoanuts that 's tough, An' all the things a feller likes But never gets enough ; There 's floatin' island, apple tarts. An' puddin's all a-steam ; There 's junket, cake, an' ginger-bread — ■ But the best of all 's ice-cream ! I don't care much fer oysters, An' clams I think is vile. An' soup is one of these here things That people eats fer style ; Though meats an' veg'tables is good. They takes up too much room. So I goes slow till dessert comes In the Hotel Orange Bloom. Now, Pa he is a broker, An' his head is filled with stocks, Johnny's Bill of Fare 15 An' Ma she 's always thinkin' Of her hats an' cloaks an' frocks ; So no one pays attention To what I eat or do, An' when the waiter's back is turned I stuffs my pockets, too. I 've got a closet in my room Where no one else can spy. An' there I hides the things I takes, An' eats them on the sly ; But lately I has felt right queer — I think it 's called the " chronic" — An' lost my appetite — I guess I need some sort o' tonic. SNOOTY-POOTY "Are you Mother's snooty-pooty ? " Mother often asks at night, When we Ve got the knots undided And I 'm tucked in snug and tight ; "Are you Mother's snooty-pooty? " — But I shake my head just so, An' make out I 'm not her snooty. Though of course I am, you know. Then she makes beheve she 's cryin', An' she sobs likes everything. An' she says : " My snooty-pooty Must have gone away last spring ! " Then I cry : " Oh, no, he did n't ! Here he is ! " an* hug her tight ; An' she says : " Why, snooty-pooty Must have come back home last night ! Then I make her tell a story All about some prince or king, i6 Snooty-Pooty 17 Or she *11 sing " Sweet Annie Laurie " — You just ought to hear her sing ! — Then she says : " Now, snooty-pooty, One more kiss, an' off to sleep ! " An' I close my eyes, an' promise I won't let her snooty peep. EF I WAS RICH ° ^'^; Ef I was rich, I tell you w'at, I 'd have a bully time , 'd spend a lot on candy — Why, I guess I 'd spend a dime ! An' soda-water, too, you bet, I 'd buy a glass each day, n'jus' plunk down a quarter When it come the time . to pay. '^' w I 'd buy a lot o' soldiers, too, Like Cousin Joe has got, An' then it would n't matter much Ef one or two got shot. An' lost their heads an' arms an' legs An' could n't go to war — For when a feller 's rich, you see, He goes an' buys some more. i8 Ef I Was Rich 19 r d have a boat with sails an' things, An' p'r'aps a train o' cars ; An' all the kinds o' jelly w'at Comes put up tight in jars, An' always stays locked up, so 's you Can't never get a bit, Excep' when big folks comes around An' eats mos' all of it. I 'd get a pair o' boxin'-gloves, A turnin'-lathe an' tools ; An' picter-books, but not the kind You sees at Sunday-schools ; An' ef they tried to make me go To school through rain or shine, I would n't go a step, no, sir, I 'd ruther pay the fine. P'r'aps I 'd get a bike, beside, Ef I was mvful rich ; An', oh, a baseball, too, the kind That really players pitch ; An' then I 'd get a — well, let 's see, I can't tell all I 'd do — But Pa an' Ma should have their share, An' Sister Nellie, too. A PIEBALD TRIP The other night I ate some pie, And when I went to bed I tumbled down a flight of steps, And landed on my head. The ground gave way and let me through, The wind rushed past my ears ; I plunged into a boiling sea, And sunk for nineteen years. At last when nearly out of breath I reached the other side, And tumbled into endless space, So cold I nearly died. On, on I flew, and close behind A dragon snapped his jaws ; In vain I tried to recollect Sir Isaac Newton's laws. ON, ON I FLEW, AND CLOSE BEHIND A DRAGON SNAPPED HIS JAWS A Piebald Trip A comet suddenly appeared, I shot across its tail, And scared the salamanders so They turned from red to pale. A sufferer from prickly heat, I, scratching, onward sped, But caught by chance a shooting-star, And landed in my bed. SUSAN'S BAD LANGUAGE She 's a funny little creature, and she chatters like a daw, In a language meant for English, disregarding ev'ry law ; And it makes her, oh, so angry, when I say " Now, Susan, please Try to speak the English language — you are speaking Susanese." " Ith a-thpeakin' pwoppa English," she declares, with flashing eyes, "An' I athed where Dolly goes to when her 's tathen thick an' dies " — " I would give you answer, Susan," I reply, " and be most glad. But I cannot understand you, for your language is so bad." 23 JOHNNY'S CONSCIENCE I 've got the funniest feelin' When I bin bad, right here ; It ain't a pain exactly, but It certainly feels queer ; I 'm sure it ain't my stummick, though, For that it 's up too high — A sorter chokin', 's though I 'd eat Too big a piece of pie. Now, Mother calls it " conshince," an' She says that it 's put there To tell me when I 'm naughty, like When I 've pulled Sister's hair ; But I don't need no " conshince " To tell me that, for she Goes tells my Pa, an' you can bet He 'presses it on me. I wish, though, I was made without A " conshince," so 's I jes' 24 Johnny's Conscience 25 Could have the finest sorter time, An' would n't have to 'fess ; But my ! I Ve got a great idea — I '11 swaller it some day ! — But say, it 's dangerous ef you don't Just know the proper way. WHOOS A whoo is something like a spook — At least, that 's what they say — But whoos don't have to go get dead, Like spooks — they 're born that way. I 've never seen a whoo myself, But once I met a girl Wat seen a whoo, and ever since Her hair refused to curl. It ain't a-seein' whoos, though, hurts, It 's havin' them see you, For when you once has met their eyes, There 's nothin' you can do ; Some people has a fit, an' some Jus' turns a yaller-green. An' skinny folks they gets all fat. An' fat folks they gets lean. There ain't no rule, though, 'bout the way It acts on folks, for I 26 IT AIN'T A-SEEIN' WHOOS, THOUGH, HURTS, IT'S HAVING THEM SEE YOU Whoos 27 Once heard about a boy w'at lost His appetite for pie Through seein' whoos, an' Sister knows A girl w'at met one once, An' now she can't learn how to spell, She 's pretty near a dunce. You never meet a whoo by day. But when the sun has set, An' all the trees is spooky, an' The grass with dew is wet ; An' when you hear the death-watch rap, An' all the woods is still — Why, that 's the time the whoos come out An' wander on the hill. I ain't so much afraid o' spooks, Because you never see A spook when other folks is round, They don't like company ; But whoos is diff'rent, for you can't Tell when you '11 meet a whoo — You 're never safe except in bed, With your head all covered, too. MY AUNT I 've got a aunt w'at is a aunt, The kind you read about ; She don't keep sayin', " No, you can't ! " An' " Johnny, now get out ! " She just turns to and helps you get Whatever you may need — She 's just about all right, you bet, The best you ever seed. An' then, you see, when I been bad. Like fellers must sometimes, She don't go get all hot an' mad, An' talk about your " crimes " ; But she just keeps me 'way from Ma, An' talks 'bout other things. An' says she '11 make it right with Pa I guess she '11 soon have wings. HOW TO TELL THE TIME I 've just learned how to tell the time, My Mother teached me to ; An' ef you think you 'd like to learn, I guess I might teach you ; At first, though, it 's as hard as fun. An' makes you twist an' turn, An' Mother says that they is folks. Big folks, w'at never learn. You stand before the clock, just so, An' start right at the top. That 's twelve o'clock, an' when you reach The little hand you stop ; Now, that 's the hour, but you 've got To watch what you 're about, Because the hardest part 's to come, To find the minutes out. You go right back again to where You started from, an' see 29 llll[lilli«iviillii'|i'iiiip»iiiiiip jiiiii««i''g«piiiiiifBP* '^ Vi \ic ;'f ' YOU STAND BEFORE THE CLOCK, JUST SO, AN' START RIGHT AT THE TOP How to Tell the Time 31 How far the minute hand 's away, Like this — you 're watchin' me? — An' when you 've found the minute-hand You multifly by five, An* nen you 've got the time o' day, As sure as you 're aHve. They 's folks, I know, w'at says that they Don't have to count that way, That they can tell by just a glance. At any time o' day ; But I don't b'lieve no fibs like that, Because ef that was true My Ma would know it, but she showed Me like I 'm showin' you. REVERSAL When I was just a little lad, Ere ever a care I knew, And the ship of my daily sailing Was manned by a fairy crew ; When life was still a wondrous thing, And I had n't discovered its flaws - I 'd dream in the night of monsters And terrible things with claws. But now that I have older grown, And life is mostly care, And I find that unmixed laughter Is not to be my share — The dragons and the monsters Are only met by day. And I have to wait till dream- time comes To see the fairies play. y ^' LITTLE GIRL WITH BUT ONE DIMPLE LURKING IN YOUR SATIN CHEEK LITTLE GIRL WITH BUT ONE DIMPLE Little girl with but one dimple Lurking in your satin cheek, Lurking there to take me captive, Tho' you look demurely meek ; In your lap your hands are folded. And your truant eyes cast down, While your dainty feet are hidden, Slyly peeping from your gown — *T is a picture sweetly simple. As of some uncloistered nun — Smile again and show your dimple, I am captive, dearest one. Little girl with but one dimple, I am glad you have not two. For I needs must love the other. Since it would belong to you ; But I have no love to spare it. All is given, I confess, And to love the second I should Have to love the first one less. 3 33 34 Little Girl with but One Dimple Little maid, you need no wimple, You are my uncloistered nun — Smile again and show your dimple To your captive, sweetest one. JOHNNY'S THOUGHTS ON CHRISTIAN SCIENCE The other day I had a pain From eatin' Christmas pie On July Fourth, it hurt so bad Indeed, I thought I 'd die ; I lay and wriggled on the floor, And swore to Sister Nell 35 36 Johnny's Thoughts on Christian Science That I would be a better boy Ef ever I got well. But while I squirmed and rolled about, Why, Mrs. Jones come in, And when I told her I was sick, She said such talk was sin ; She stuck me down, I only thought That I was sick — but I Know better, for I guess She did n't eat that pie. The way that some folks come around, An' tell you you 're not sick. An' close their eyes, and " treat " you, while They mumble things off quick, Is just enough to make you think You 'd rather bust in two From Christmas pies, than have no sense Like this here treatin' crew. ' "''""ill, vMm^ Jiifei TRAVELLING I sit upon the sandy shore, And dream myself across the sea; The morning 's spent in Singapore, The afternoon in Barbary. The time is short for all the sights, The mosque, bazar, and fezzes red ; 'T is best of all, they say, of nights, But that 's the time that I 'm in bed, From shop to shop I stroll along. And make a purchase now and then I get the things for just a song, And hand them to my dragomen. Who walk a pace or two behind. And never speak unless addressed — 37 38 Travelling It 's quite impossible to find, You know, such servants in the West. At noon I take a cup of that Delicious coffee which you get At Singapore, and have a chat With any friends whom I have met. And then I usually depart For Barbary, Tangiers, or Spain ; It doesn't matter when I start — I do not have to make the train. If Barbary should be the place I 've chosen for the afternoon, I go to see the camel-race, Or fishing in the big lagoon. Although, to tell the truth, of late The crocodiles have grown so bold They've swallowed all the hooks and bait- They really make my blood run cold. I 've told the Khedive, so, no doubt, He '11 get his hunters from the plain And have the crocodiles cleaned out Before I come to fish again. Travelling 39 I think, though, we had better try The camel-race this time — but stay ! My Mother 's calling me — good-by ! Perhaps we '11 go some other day. THE BOY-EATER My Uncle Sam 's a dangerous man, He is, he 's big and stout, An' when he comes around you Ve got To watch w'at you 're about ; For ef you don't, first thing you know. You don't know nothin', for He grabs you by your pants, an' h'ists You 'way up off the floor. 40 The Boy-Eater 41 He 's got a solemn sort o' look, As tho' he hated fun, An' had n't any use for boys, An' could n't up an' run ; " Now, look a-here," he says, " you jus' Had better let me be, I 'm great on eatin' boys " — an' nen He makes a grab for me. He never yet has caught me, but I 'm not a-riskin' that, For when you fools with cannybells You don't know where you 're at ; So when he blows his cheekses out. An' hunger lights his eye, I does w'at missionaries don't, I jus' bids him good-by. But t' other day, I tell you w'at, He almost catched me, for I 'd been a-teasin' him, an' slipped Before I reached the door ; He tumbled over me, gee-w'op ! The house near busted in — Ef he 'd a-landed on me, say, I wonder where I 'd been ' 42 The Boy-Eater I had n't any time, though, then To think about such things, But up I jumped an' flew around The table 's though I 'd wings ; An' followin' close behin' he comes, A-reachin' for my jacket. An' pufifin' like a train o' cars — We made a awful racket ! I never ran so fas', but he Got hold my roundabout, An' thought he had me, too, but I, Jus' quickly wriggled out. An' lef him holdin' of my coat. An' gaspin' there for breath — An' that was all that saved me then, I guess, from sudden death. SLEEPY TIME My Ma she says the mornin' is The bestest time o' day, Because it is the time to work, An' not the time to play ; But that 's the very reason I Don't h'ke the mornin', for I 've got to go to school and sit From nine o'clock till four. On Saturday it ain't so bad, But it so seldom comes I never seem to get no rest From Geography an' sums ; So ev'nin' is the time I likes The best of all the day, When all the lamps is lighted, an' The supper 's cleared away. I sets an' thinks about the games I '11 play with Tommy Bell, 43 44 Sleepy Time Of Christmus time, an' Christmus gifts, An' fairy tales, as well ; An' all the stunts I means to do Next winter on my sled — But then before I knows it, why, I 'm sound asleep in bed. Now, Pa he says that little folks Must sleep a lot, but say, It seems to me that big folks has A greater need, for they Is just so big it takes a lot Of sleep to go around — Like Pa, who 's over six foot tall An' weighs two hundred pound. An' so, I 'se goin' to keep awake This evenin' ef I die, I 'se got a way to do it, too, A way I means to try ; For when the dustman comes around I '11 close my eyes, so 's he Can't fill 'em full o' sleepy dust. An' make me sleepy — see? PANTS When I stayed up till nine o'clock The first time in my life, I thought that I was old enough To get myself a wife ; I told my Ma I would n't wear Those horrid, nasty kilts. And when she made me pants I felt As tall as though on stilts. But oh, since then I 've had enough Of staying up at night : To get to bed at nine o'clock 's My dream of pure delight ; And as for pants, I wish that they Had never been invented — I 've never seen a " panted " one Who really was contented. 45 THERE WERE GIANTS IN THOSE DAYS Yes, yes, my son, I have no doubt They 're wonderful, these boys Who play at football, hockey, quoits, With such astounding noise ; No doubt they 're heroes just as great As any Homer sung — I only say, you should have seen The boys when I was young. Our football team was formed of those Who averaged seven feet. And every one a Hercules In every way complete ; While each could run a hundred yards In seven seconds flat, Altho', of course, the " backs," you know, Were fleeter far than that. To get upon our baseball nine You had to throw a ball 46 ,' wf, OUR FOOTBALL TEAM WAS FORMED OF THOSE WHO AVERAGED SEVEN FEET There Were Giants in Those Days" 47 Three hundred yards, tho' many held That nothing much at all ; And many a time I 've seen the ball When batted go so high The batter made a home-run first Before they caught the " fly." And hockey — well, we 'd skate so fast You could n't see our feet ; While as for jumping, Henry Spring Jumped right across the street — No, no, I don't dispute the fact You boys are mighty fine. But then, of course, you did n't know The boys of '59. ROUND 'BOUT CHRIS'MAS TIME Aunt Nan she says I 'm always good, An' Pa says: "Yes — asleep" — An' Ma she don't say nothin', but Her eyes they says a heap ; An' I — well, I keep sorter quiet, An* try to look serblinne — But you jus' bet I 'm good as gold Round 'bout Chris'mas time. At other times it 's hard as fun To do jus' what you 're told, An' like to get up early, an' Be thankful when they scold ; But somehow, when December comes An' hazel-nuts is prime, I get so good I nearly die, Round 'bout Chris'mas time. I onct played hookey, — yes, I did An' went a-fishin' too., 4S i. 1. i{ f y WHILE AS FOR JUMPING, HENRY SPRING JUMPED RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET Round 'bout Chris'mas Time An' wished next day I had n't 'fore The principal got through ; But that was 'way last May that I Committed of that crime — I don't play hookey now, no sir! Round 'bout Chris'mas time. 49 THE MAN THAT WAKES ME UP I tell you w'at, I love my Pa, I love him mos' as much as Ma ; He 's awful good to me, an' brings Me lots o' toys an* kites an' slings; An' t' other day, as sure as fate, He brought me home a tarrier pup — I love my Pa, but oh, I hate The man that mornin's wakes me up! My Pa he takes me fishin', too. When he 's got nothin' else to do ; I ketched a catfish, too, one day. Though half-way out he got away ; But Pa said I might count him, though, An' somethin' 'bout the " lip an' cup " — I dearly love my Pa, but oh, I hate the man that wakes me up ! 50 The Man That Wakes Me Up 51 I 'm always hearin' 'bout the ant Wat gets up early, but I can't See w'at that 's got to do with me — I ain't no ant, as I can see ; I 'm just a boy w'at likes to He Abed until it 's time to sup — Of course I love my Pa, but I Don't love that man that wakes me up. THE TITTYPOOS Deep, deep in the heart of the ancient wood Is the home of the Tittypoo folk, And there in the midst of the forest dim They labor and laugh and joke ; They rise with the sun, and they go to bed When the sun has sunk from sight. But the rest of the time they work and work, And they sleep like a top all night. Now, the Tittypoo tribe is a bow-legged tribe. And they 're all of the very same size, A foot and a half is the height of each, And they all have identical eyes ; So a Tittypoo can't tell himself apart. And a name is an unknown thing, 52 The Tittypoos 53 Save Tittypoo-La, who 's the queen of the tribe. And Tittypoo-Loo, the king. The main occupation of Tittypoo land Is working for Santa Claus, Who gives out his contracts on New Year's day, In worsted all worked on gauze ; " Ten million of kites, and a billion of sleds. And a trillion or so of drums," Is the way that he orders his goods, you know, To be ready when Christmas comes. So the Tittypoos get out their hammers and saws, And they hammer and saw away, In a deathly fear they may be too late For the coming of Christmas day ; And they work so fast with their hammers and saws That they always are thro' by June, And they cry, " Oh, why did we hurry so, For now we are done too soon ! " In a desperate state they bustle around To find some work to do. And they clean up the forest for miles and miles And weep when they are through ; And they say, " What a pity some boys are bad. For were they all good as pie, 54 The Tittypoos Our contracts with Santa Claus then would call For a very much larger supply." Now, a Tittypoo's heart it is tender and kind, And there 's nothing he hates except The greedy band of the Lodtops, and In catching them he 's adept ; For when he espies a Lodtop he Esteems it a regular treat, And carefully crawls to a point where he Can tickle the Lodtop's feet. Now, the Lodtop's feet are so ticklish that When they 're tickled he catches his breath, The Tittypoos 55 And he laughs and he laughs and he laughs so long That he laughs himself to death ; Then the Tittypoo dances around his foe, And he cries, " I have killed him dead ! He has eaten his last little girl or boy ! " Then he cuts off the Lodtop's head. So hurrah for the Tittypoo folk ! I say. Who live in the forest dim ; May each of the Tittypoos 'spy to-day A Lodtop and tickle him ; And I only wish that the Whoos had feet. For the Tittypoos, then, — who knows? — Might tickle the feet of the Whoos, as now They tickle the Lodtops' toes. TWO WISHES " / Wish I Was a Man ! " So, thou wouldst be a man, my boy, Wouldst change thy happy lot For one that is so full of care Of which thou knowest not ? Thou 'dst have thy merry, merry heart Forget the song it sings, And lose the laughter from thy soul That bears it up on wings? Thou 'dst leave the springtime heights of play. And seek the barren plain Where burdened folk, with weary feet. Pass on the road of pain ? Thou 'dst give thy castles in the air For some poor hut on earth, And learn, reality and dreams Have not an equal worth ? 56 Two Wishes Thou 'dst be a man, a mighty man ? And I would be a boy — I 'd give thee all my strength, if thou Couldst give me half thy joy. 57 JOHNNY'S LETTER TO SANTA CLAUS Dear Santa Claus : — I wish you 'd bring, To fill my stocking, Christmas night, A bike, a sled, some books, a swing, A phonograoh and six-foot kite. 58 THE SONG HE SHOULD HAVE SUNG " I would I were a careless child ! " Sang Byron many years ago, Forgetful of the punishments That careless children undergo : A brand-new hat without a brim, A party suit all torn and ripped, A hoop on which dear Father steps — And lo, a careless child is whipped ! Those Monday lessons still unlearned, A pressing errand quite forgot, A trembling home-returning — these Make sad the envied careless lot. Indeed, the poet quite forsakes The narrow path of painful truth, And fails to point the moral for The erring steps of careless youth ; Had he but grasped his mission high, As guide to those by sin beguiled. He would have sung the nobler song " I would I were a careful child." 59 THE MAN WHO LOVED THE CHILDREN He was just a good-for-nothing, An encumbrance to the earth, And there seemed no shghtest semblance Of a reason for his birth ; He was lazy, old, and shabby, And the work that he had done In his life you might have crowded In the time from sun to sun. He would sit around and idle When he knew at home the larder Was empty — 't was the period When he seemed to loaf the harder; So his angry wife had left him. Many years before my song. And the neighbors said they wondered She had stuck it out so long. He was lazy, old, and shabby, And his friends were very few, 60 AND THE SAILING-BOATS HE FASHIONED WERE A WONDER AND DELIGHT The Man Who Loved the Children 6i But he loved the children deady, And the children loved him, too; And although he would n't labor In the ordinary way, For a little man or woman He would work the livelong day. He could make a bow and arrow That would shoot 'most out of sight, And the sailing-boats he fashioned Were a wonder and delight ; And he told the finest stories, While he whittled at his work, Of gorillas, wolves, and grizzlies, And the wars against the Turk. So when he died the children Wept as though their hearts would break, And I 'm sure he 's gone to heaven, If it 's only for their sake. He was lazy, old, and shabby, And a ne'er-do-well, I know, But the Judge above is lenient — And he loved the children so. WHEN THE NOSE IS COLD When I wake up at night to find My nose has got a chill, With all the symptoms well defined, And growing colder still, I do not leave my nice warm bed, To light the fire and freeze my toes — I simply cover up my head, Thus covering up my nose. Oh, it is sad to think of all The noses that are cold Throughout the land, both large and small, Of every shape and mould ; I pity all, for 't is a sin, But most I pity those Who have no covers warm wherein To thaw a freezing nose. 62 THE HUNT FOR THE DRAGON The other day when Cousin Joe An' me an' Sister Nell Was playin' Injuns on the lawn, Along comes Tommy Bell ; His eyes was poppin' out his head, An' when he tried to speak • He could n't say a word at all, But only give a squeak. We thought he 'd seen a spook, for sure, Or run across a Whoo, Or met a Lodtop in the woods, Or heard the big Garoo ; But 't was n't that, for when he 'd found His tongue again, he sez : '* Our hired man has told me where A really dragon ez ! " Now, Cousin Joe he gave a whoop. An' Sister Nell says, " Oh ! " 63 64 The Hunt for the Dragon An' I jus' felt my heart go thump , An' then stand still, you know ; For hired men they is the ones That knows about such things As spooks an' Lodtops, gnomes an' Whoos, An' dragons w'at has wings. " Where is he ? quick ! " cried Cousin Joe ; " We '11 go an' kill him dead, An' then we '11 be Saint Georges, too, When we 've cut off his head ! " " Hooray ! " I cried, an' waved my cap, " I '11 go an' dig his grave ! " But Cousin Joe he said, " Oh no. That ain't a-bein' brave." An' so I had to get a stick. An' Sister got a hoe, An' Tommy Bell he fetched a rake An' give to Cousin Joe ; An' for himself he had a sling — A awful big one, my ! — An' said he 'd shoot the dragon, when We 'd found him, in the eye. " I '11 lead," says Tommy Bell, " an' you Can follow close behind ; " The Hunt for the Dragon 65 An' Cousin Joe he let him, too, Because 't was Tommy 's find ; An' Sister Nell she followed next, An' I brought up the rear — I was n't frightened, but somehow My legs felt awful queer. "All ready, march! " cried Tommy Bell, An' started double-quick Toward the Jones's woods, an' I Made ready with my stick To poke it down the dragon's throat, Or hit him on the head — We had n't found him yet, but he Was just as good as dead. *' No noise now," says Tommy Bell, When we had reached the edge Of Jones's woods ; " perhaps he is Right there behind that hedge ! " An' so we crep' along real quiet Until we 'd passed the spot. When Tommy threw a stone to see Ef he was there or not. But nothin' moved, an' on we went Along on toward the brook, 66 The Hunt for the Dragon A-throwin' stones ahead of us At ev'ry shady nook ; But suddintly, why, Cousin Joe He cried out, " What is that ?" An' so 's to listen better I Jus' laid myself down flat. An' like the Injuns when they puts Their ears close to the ground, I heard a distant sorter throb, A spooky kind o' sound ; But after 'bout a minute when I kep' quiet as a lamb, " Oh pshaw," cried Cousin Joe, " I guess That 's Jones's water-ram ! " An' sure enough it was, so we Took up the march again, An' went on deeper in the woods, Like brave King Arthur's men ; But say ! 't was awful scary, though, Jus' like a nightmare-dream, You could n't hear a sound excep' The tinklin' of the stream. " Our hired man he said we 'd find The dragon over there, The Hunt for the Dragon 67 Beyond the pond," says Tommy Bell, " Where Bennets found their mare A-flounderin' in the bog — so ef He has n't taken flight. He mus' be there this moment, an' He '11 have to stand an' fight." Now, huntin' dragons when you 're still A-playin' round the yard Is 'bout as hard as kissin' games, — An' they ain't very hard ; But when the dragon 's run to earth. An' you or he must die. Why, that 's the time you wish you 'd learned In early youth to fly. So when we heard from Tommy Bell That we had reached his den, I sorter wished we 'd brought along Our two big hired men ; But wishin' did n't help, so on We went, like we had done. An' I caught Sister's dress to help Her ef we had to run. Without a word we crep' along To where the bog begins, 68 The Hunt for the Dragon An' there was brambles all around To scratch you on the shins ; An' everywhere the bushes grew So thick you could n't see The dragon's hidin'-place at all, Like darkest Afriky. " Now steady, men," says Cousin Joe ; " I 'm goin' to throw a stone To make him leave the bog an' come Out here to fight alone." With that he threw a great big rock, An' splash we heard it fall, An' then for 'bout a second we Heard nothin' much at all. An' then, oh my ! the bushes' tops Began to wave around. An' from the dragon's den there come A squidgy-squdgy sound — " He 's comin' now ! " cried Cousin Joe " Stand fast ! " cried Tommy Bell ; An' so 's to guard her better, I Got back of Sister Nell. About a minute passed, I guess, While we was standin' so, The Hunt for the Dragon 69 A-listenin' to our hearts go thiunpy Jus' Hke a hammer's blow ; When such a awful howl there come From out the dragon's den I 'm certain that it would 'ave scared Our two big hired men. 'T was loud an' long, an' sad an' slow, A curdlin' sorter sound. That made your knees go wobblin', like A earthquake shook the ground ; An' Sister Nell she give a howl, An' run with all her might. An', as r d come to guard her, I Kep' hold her dress right tight. We run an' run, till out of breath. We could n't run no more. An' then we walked until at last We reached our kitchen door, Where Cousin Joe an' Tommy Bell Was playin' " Nero's Crime," An' tryin' t' make believe as if They 'd been there all the time. But jus' then up a horseman come, An' asked our hired man 70 The Hunt for the Dragon Ef he had seen a brindle cow, All sorter white an' tan ; Our hired man he scratched his head, An' cried, " By -^sop's frog, I heard a cow a while ago Across in Jones's bog!" MY LITTLE BOY Good folks, I 've lost my little boy, With locks of curling brown, And laughing eyes and dimpled cheeks, The sweetest boy in town ; He came and stayed a while with me Oh, days without alloy ! — Until he quite outgrew my care — I 've lost my little boy ! The boy I have is big and strong, And brave as brave can be, And I am sure that in his heart There still is room for me ; He 's good and kind, and sent, I know. To be my pride and joy ; But ah, my heart is often sad — He 's not my little boy ! PICKING ON KIDS I 've got no use for fellers w'at Go bullyin' little boys, A-settin' on their stummicks, an' A-smashin' of their toys ; I used to do it onct myself, When I was only six, But now I 'm big an' seven years I 've stopped those sort o' tricks. Besides, I saw a feller onct W'at caught a little chap, An' pulled his hair, an' pinched him, too, An' thought he had a snap ; But suddintly a great big boy He come up on a run, 72 Picking on Kids 73 An' walloped him to beat the band, An' made him howl like fun. You see, you never know w'at boys Has got a brother, or A cousin stay in' over night You never seen before — An' so I think it 's mean to pick On kids w'at 's weak an' small. An' can't defend themselves like men. But just run home an' squall. A CHRISTMAS PRAYER Oh, Christmas days of long ago, Can you not give one day to me, One of your merry number back Just as it used to be ? 'T is but a httle time to spare From all the many-houred past, That once was mine and now is yours, One day too sweet to last ! You would not miss it from your store. While I — ah, words are vain ! — And when the evening comes, you know, I *11 give it back again. I 've given you so much, oh Past ! My life, my love, and all beside, Yet when I ask this simple boon I find myself denied ; It would not rob a single heart To have mine happy too. To have the Christmas day come in Just as it used to do. 74 A Christmas Prayer 75 Then why not grant my childish wish, Let me forget I 'm grown ! — Alas, the past comes back again In memory alone ! A KNOTTY QUESTION " Please, Papa," asked my little girl, " If we 've thermometers, How does it come about that there Are no therpopeters? " 76 AN EARLY BLOSSOM Oh, she came one day in winter, When the flowers were asleep. Like an eager httle blossom That has come to take a peep, And to see, before her sisters. Whether Spring is at the door, And to be the first to welcome Robin Redbreast back once more. So we called her little Daisy, And we thanked dear God above He had sent to cheer ourjvinter Such a dainty flower to love ; And we watched her grow and blossom As the spring-tide passed away From the land — but in our dwelling It remained forever May. But, alas, the May has left us, And 't is always winter now ; 77 LofC. 78 An Early Blossom There are other flowers in plenty, There are blossoms on the bough, But the flower we loved and cherished Is beyond our hopes and fears, And we cannot see the others For the blinding of our tears. THE HURDY-GURDY •• Do You Love Me, Molly Darling ? " — To the time of " Get Your Gun " — There is not an instant's pausing When the tune has once begun ; " Sweet Marie " and " Annie Laurie " Hasten wildly to get through, To escape the frantic wooing Of the dashing " Boys in Blue " ; But the boys must all surrender To the lone " High-School Cadet," Whose career in turn is ended By " A Foolish, Fond Regret," While the sweet " Blue Bells of Scotland " Ring out " Daisy Bell's " bike marriage, 79 8o The Hiirdy-Gurdy And Mascagni's " Intermezzo " Ushers in " Our Baby-Carriage " — Madly reels the brain, and reason Totters on her narrow throne ; Rushing madly to the window, " Go ! " you murmur with a groan ; Then you halt, " The Suwanee River Rises upward to your ear, Or some other simple ditty That in childhood's days was dear ; And you close your eyes to listen, While the music floods your soul, And the clouds of sad experience Backward from the vision roll ; All forgot the dreary present. All forgot its griefs and fears, For the hurdy-gurdy's music Has wiped out a score of years. THE DEAREST ONE I love the ways of sunny France, The tender song, the joyous dance, The vine-clad hills 'mid verdant leas, Through which the rivers seek the seas ; The rippling laugh, the roguish glance — Ah yes, I love thee, merry France. And Germany, where music sprang Anew to life, where poets sang, And Romance quivered into birth, I love thee, too, I know thy worth ; Here drinks the soul at learning's spring While wandering students gaily sing. And Italy, the home of art. And Spain, proud Spain, with broken heart 82 The Dearest One And England, too, where freedom grew I love them all, the brave, the true, For happy hours beneath their skies, For memories of smiles and sighs, For songs of love since love began — But ah, my heart 's American ! For permission to republish certain poems in this volume thanks are due to The Churclwian, The Munsey, and the New York Herald. 83 tcopvnn TO CAT P(v. JUL. 9 190? LIBRARY OF CONGRESS iiiaiiiiiH . 018 477 508 6